Tremors
by asteristar
Summary: [Mulder and Scully are separated as the world falls apart around them.] OneShot, MSR


Tremors  
A/N: I'll admit it - this story was inspired by recent events occuring on "The O.C.". No laughing. I've never experienced an earthquake, so my depiction of one might be a little off.

* * *

I felt it before he did. 

Familiar panic rushed through me and my eyes immediately catalogued every possible exit, every possible escape. Other people around me did the same and, as one, everyone in the room moved to the nearest safe place.

Everyone except Mulder.

I turned and his name sounded, ripped from my lips with a terrified cry. There was a split second of silence as our eyes connected. He stretched a hand out towards me.

And all Hell broke loose.

I braced myself in a doorframe, the floor trembling as the earth shuddered, the ground writhing as dirt loosened and crumbled. Someone pulled Mulder to safety, but out of my sight, and I was torn between being grateful to whoever had protected him and being angry at his protector for taking him from me.

I heard something crack and I looked up, dreading what I would see. The building we were in was not particularly sturdy, and I cursed under my breath as pieces of the ceiling started to crash to the floor.

I crouched and leaned my back up against the doorframe, shielding my head with my arms. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and focused on my breathing, trying to distance myself from the rumbling beneath me and the wreckage above me.

Slowly, it quieted. I could almost hear the dust settle in the silence that followed. I opened my eyes carefully, and was met with the sight of a wall of rubble built too high for me to see the other side of the room.

Mulder.

Mulder was there. On the other side of that wall. And I could not get to him.

I pushed myself up and onto my feet, and stumbled forward, tremors shaking my legs, hands pressing and scratching and clawing at the debris. My voice was raw as I called his name, and as the sounds of crisis started to build up around me, sirens and people and tears, I knew in my heart that there was nothing more I could do. He could not hear me. I could not reach him. I could only pray that he was still alive.

I gradually came back to myself, and backed away from the ruins. I turned instead towards the scene behind me, the place where I could be of the most help. I heard many voices, asking for help, asking for a doctor, and the ambulance sirens rang in my ears.

I approached one of the EMTs, a man who had been there only ten minutes yet already looked frazzled and harried.

"I'm a medical doctor," I told him, and his relief was palpable. He directed me to one side, and I was sent one patient after another – broken bones, cuts of various sizes and depths. After about two hours, the same EMT approached me and asked me if I wouldn't mind going to the nearest hospital to help. During a time like this, they were sure to be short-staffed.

I agreed and now, thirty minutes later, I find myself heading a surgery team in the OR. I am thrown back to the days of my residency, and am surprised by how quickly and easily I fall into the routine.

I am Dana Scully, M.D., and I will get through this without worrying obsessively about Mulder.

I will.

* * *

I don't know how she knew.

Maybe it's because she lived in California when she was younger. She's probably experienced an earthquake before.

Well, it was a first for me.

Something changed in the air. That was my first inkling. I just knew something was wrong. So I looked over at Scully, and she looked worried. That was my second clue. She never looks worried.

Then, everybody around me started moving towards the doors. I just stood there, rooted to the spot, as Scully yelled my name and I reached for her. And then everything fell apart.

Literally.

Somebody pulled me to safety, and I threw myself on the ground, trying to remember if I'd ever learned anything about how to react in case of an earthquake. Turns out, I never learned anything relevant to this situation.

When everything stopped moving, the air seemed to be thicker. Like it was harder to move through. It seemed to me as if things were going in slow motion. And slowly, I realized that Scully wasn't with me.

That's when the panic set in.

I started towards the mound of rubble, hoping fervently that Scully wasn't trapped somewhere underneath, when a young man grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Don't," he said warningly. "The debris is unstable. It could fall, or pieces could dislodge. You should stay back."

I nodded slowly and moved away, feeling slightly out of balanace, as I always do when Scully is not with me. I got out of the building relatively quickly, avoiding all the fuss and crowds and people.

And now, here I am, making my way from hospital to hospital, because I know that my partner will be in one of them, helping in the best way she knows how. Working. And I'm so on edge that I feel as if the earthquake's tremors are still shooting through me.

I must confess, I'm worried that I'll find her a patient in one of these hospitals, not a doctor. But if I know anything about Scully, it's that she's strong, and she's too strong to let a simple earthquake get her down.

She's okay. I know she's okay.

* * *

I've just finished surgery number fourteen, and I'm nearing the middle of my shift. A temporary schedule has been made up, and in five hours, I will be free to leave the hospital and find Mulder.

I step out of the OR and walk towards the waiting room, looking for the nurse managing my patients. She's got a list of who I'm operating on and when, which is very helpful in the hectic area that is the hospital.

I reach the nurses' station, and ask for the next file from the nurse when I hear my name, said in a worry-roughened voice, coming from across the room.

My heart jumps from my chest to my throat, and I turn, my eyes seeking his form. And there he is. Mulder. His face is blank, a neutral expression carefully constructed, but his eyes are the deep green color that they become only when he's very happy or very relieved.

I think in this case, it's a little bit of both.

We do not move towards each other, simply stand there staring as I relish the fact that he is alive and well. He is about to walk to me when the nurse I am standing with taps my shoulder, and I am jerked back to reality.

"Dr. Scully, you're in OR 3. The patient has a few pieces of glass deeply embedded in her back."

"All right," I say, taking the file from her. "Look, could you do me a favor?" She nods. "Could you tell the tall man in the trenchcoat that I should be back at the hotel by 8:30?"

"Sure, Dr. Scully."

"Thanks."

I glance at Mulder and attempt a reassuring smile, but I think it comes off more as a grimace. I pull myself together quickly and stride off confidently towards the OR. I can do this now.

I mean, not that I couldn't before. Just, now I can just do it better.

* * *

She looks exhausted. The bags under her eyes are defined and heavy, and she could barely muster a smile. This worries me. She needs rest, and soon.

The nurse she was talking to approaches me and delivers Scully's message. I thank the nurse and make my way out of the hospital. I have things to do before Scully gets back to the hotel.

The case we came here for was nothing, or at least nothing worth staying here for. Scully might not be able to admit it, but this earthquake thing is probably affecting her. We need to leave, to get back home where there are no tremors. But flights out of California will be unavailable for a few days, so hotel reservations will need to be extended.

Like I said – work to do.

* * *

I swear I can feel the energy seeping out of me. I am so Goddamn tired.

A few taxis are patrolling the streets, and I hail one to take me back to the hotel. After nearly falling asleep during the ride there, I pay the driver, climb out, and enter my room.

It smells of Chinese food, and as I glance around it, I see the cartons of food sitting on one nightstand. Mulder is seated at the desk typing up something on his laptop. Probably a field report concerning the case we came here for.

The doors connecting our rooms are open, but Mulder's room is dark, and it is clear that he has not been there since this morning.

He looks up at my entrance, and something in his expression changes.

"Hey," he says softly. "How're you holding up?"

I rub at my temples and sigh wearily. "I just want to go to sleep."

He frowns, shaking his head slightly. "No, no, Scully. You need some food first."

"I'm not hungry, Mulder."

"You need to eat," he replies. There is a moment of tense silence, a standoff of sorts. I drop my gaze first, and therefore he wins. "You go take a shower and relax," he continues. "I'll finish up the report and get some food ready, okay?"

"Okay," I mutter resignedly, and head off to the bathroom.

When I return, Mulder has cleared the desk and made a very informal buffet. He has relocated and is now seated in the middle of the bed, staring thoughtfully at the screen of his laptop.

I eat as he works, and we finish almost simultaneously. I feel slightly out of place. It sounds silly and flighty, but Mulder has not touched me since I saw him in the hospital, and for some reason, that's bothering me.

We clean up the food and the reports together in silence, never speaking, never coming into contact. Carefully, I climb into bed and draw the covers up over my shoulders. The lights are still on, and I'm not quite sure what's going to happen. Mulder is still moving around the room quietly.

The lights click off. I feel the bed dip under Mulder's added weight, and the covers shift as he joins me under them. Soon, I feel his arm wrap protectively around my waist, and he pulls me back tight against his chest.

Tremors shake my heart as I lean into him. I can feel his breath brush the back of my neck steadily. The silence is so comfortable, so natural, that his voice startles me as he whispers in my ear.

"I was so worried, Scully. I couldn't find you. You were on the other side of that giant wall."

"I know," I whisper back, linking my hand with his.

"I hate earthquakes," he murmurs, and I laugh softly.

"Me, too."

"I don't ever want to lose you, Scully." he chokes out hoarsly, and I can tell he is fighting back tears. Which is fine, since I'm trying not to cry myself.

"You won't," I assure him, turning in his arms to face him. I press my forehead to his, and we lie there, breathing in tandem, the tremors finally slowing and stopping, now that we are together.

Together, we are stable.

Together, we cannot be shaken.

**el fin**


End file.
